


The Hell that Sustains Him

by The_Wandering_White_Witch



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 13:45:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13412547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Wandering_White_Witch/pseuds/The_Wandering_White_Witch
Summary: Waylon Park returns to Mount Massive after his failed attempts to bring justice against the Murkoff Corporation. In search of additional witnesses and irrefutable proof, Waylon ventures back into the hell he only narrowly escaped. In truth, there is another reason he has returned to the asylum, an invisible force relentlessly drawing him back into the darkness.





	1. Return to Mount Massive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My Best Friend and Fellow Miscreant](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+Best+Friend+and+Fellow+Miscreant).



**Ch. 1**

**Present**

Waylon paced back and forth over the slick wet cobblestone path outside of the asylum’s main gate, actively grappling with the idea that he would once again have to go inside. He ran his fingers along the black iron bars of the gate, contorted and wrenched aside from his previous escape from Mount Massive.

The footage Waylon had managed to escape with had been submitted directly to the authorities, even before he had gone home to see his wife. He had indicated his cooperation in bringing a case against Murkoff for all the horrors he had witnessed within the asylum; and he had even done so acknowledging the potential harm to his family’s well-being. In his mind, there is some evil that needs no argument, no explanation. With the nightmares he had witnessed, he knew that not only would the corporation be brought to its knees, but powerful men and women would soon know fresh hells of their own (or at least, to the extent that the law would allow). And so, with a naïve trust in the justice system, and a yet unbroken spirit, Waylon had handed over his camera to the authorities without generating a copy of the footage of his own.

As a wiser man may have anticipated, the case never went to trial. The footage was written off as “staged” and “doctored”, and Murkoff’s lawyers helped the corporate serpent slither its way out of any consequence at all. When he asked for the footage, he was stonewalled, and in the end he was actually threatened with “psychological treatment” at another facility.

Waylon wasn’t sure what he expected to find within the asylum specifically, but if he could get his hands on some of the documents he left behind… Maybe encourage a survivor to come with him to testify? Were there any more survivors?

_Hell, maybe I’ll bring back a severed dick in a Tupperware container, plenty of those lying around. At the very least maybe they could go fuck themselves with it._

At present, Waylon scanned the front face of the asylum looking for some sign of the horrors which he had witnessed within. Nothing was remarkable however, and if it was not for him, the nightmare may have faded into obscurity, with no one left to keep it alive. No one left to hold Murkoff accountable.

_Well there was that figure on the stairs…_

Cool rain pattered against the taught leather of his jacket, the only sound to break the silence of his surroundings, and his anxious musings about the man who had…saved him?

_Was that a man? It seemed like more of a shadow….and had the intent truly been to help me?_

Waylon recalled the last moments within the walls of the asylum when a shadowy figure gathered form nothingness to eviscerate the asshole trying end him just as he was about to make it out the door. It had spared him it seemed, or at the very least he did not endure the same pulpy end. There definitely was a figure on the stairs as he left, and if that man was still alive, Waylon was determined to try and enlist him as a witness.

_If the corporate security didn’t get to him first._

Waylon considered the organized security force which he had encountered as he ran towards the exit a few weeks ago. It occurred to him that Murkoff may have already taken care of the mess. There may be nothing left to find. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the gleam of a rear bumper jutting out from the tree line. The tires had begun to sink in the ground; presumably after weeks stationary in the marshy brush.

_So… likely that they weren’t successful I guess. I doubt they would have left this? What the hell is happening here?_

Waylon walked over to the vehicle and after a brief struggle opened the rear double doors of what he had discovered to be a large black van. Inside were a few canvas bags which yielded nothing upon further examination, but at one point probably held some kind of tactical supplies based on the markings on the outside. He circled around the front of the vehicle and rifled around in the glovebox to find a handgun a 2 clips of ammunition. I may not have experience with a gun, but I’ll be damned if I go back in there with only a camera again. Thank you to whichever God is listening. Your boy is having it rough these days. Waylon laughed weakly and felt a sense of emptiness creep into his psyche and rest upon his consciousness like a cloudy filter to his perception of reality. He felt heavy and sat quietly in the driver’s seat of the van. He tried to consider his wife, and his two sons, both of which depended on the strength of their father. He couldn’t seem to drive himself to action at the thought of their faces, which he actually had difficulty detailing in his mind at present. He looked back over his shoulder towards the asylum and thought again about the ghostly figure that had slowly moved down the broken steps towards him. He wanted to know him, and for some reason he neglected to analyze, he had a powerful belief that that man was still within Mount Massive.

With this thought, he felt the internal knot of depression and fear loosen, and he was left with only his determination. It was in moments like these that Waylon wished he was a smoker. All pretenses about shortening his life didn’t seem to matter much, not when the act of walking back across the asylum’s threshold would most definitely shorten his life in a way that no other single decision could.

The rain on the roof of the van was soothing, and the leather seat was soft and welcome. Waylon drifted off to sleep to the sound of the rain, his anxious heart drumming rhythmically in his ears, and what he thought might be the faintest of whispers on the wind.


	2. The Resurrection of Mr. Gluskin

**Ch. 2**

**4 Weeks Prior**

Eddie Gluskin was a 46 year old male, who thought of himself as rather charming and gentlemanly on the whole, but rarely received the acknowledgement he knew he deserved.

On this fine blustery evening, Eddie found himself waking up to a very difficult situation. As he regained consciousness, he quickly remembered where he was and how he had gotten there. Where exactly he found himself was suspended from the ceiling with a large metal bar skewering him through the abdomen, an unforgivable penetration of his physical being. For that matter, it was a spiritual violation as well. He had trusted her. She had BETRAYED HIM. Like a cheap whore, only around to tease him and leave him when he lacked the proper currency.

_But what could she possible have wanted that I could not provide? Did I not treat her like the queen that she was?_

Eddie gently moved his torso to gauge how difficult it was actually going to be to move from his current position. He could feel the cold steel rod moving deep in his gut and the remainder of his gentleness was replaced with a searing rage.

_That slut dares to penetrate me? In the same way THEY penetrated me? So many times…I told them no. I told them never again. In my dreams I have wrapped their colons around their necks…a noose made of their own filth. But wait…wait now…_

As he braced himself for the pain which would surely follow the dismount from the iron rod, he briefly reflected on just how much he wanted her. He wanted blond hair between his fingers. Wanted to taste her, in a way a husband savors of his wife. And while he hated her deeply for what she had done to him, he knew he also needed her. He would forgive her. The other women had been practice. He was cosmically bound to her. Who could deny it? He had seen the way she looked at him. Lust. Desire. Carnal aching between her legs. He felt an erection forming at the mere thought of her soft skin. And she had seemed conflicted in a way that was peculiar. He could sense curiosity and interest which had not been present in the others. Eddie knew that there was a part of her that wanted to be cleansed. She wanted his help. She was just too afraid!

 _I will forgive you my love, every relationship has a rough patch. We can get through this. I just need to figure out how to make you better. Your body is all inside out. I know that the best things in life require the most work and I, my flower, am willing to put in the work_.

Eddie screamed frantically as he pulled himself of the metal skewer and landed on the floor below with a solid thud.


	3. Into the Darkness

**Ch. 3**

**Present**

Waylon woke up to a roaring headache in the front seat of a van which he could not remember getting into for the first 10 or so minutes of consciousness. The driver’s side door to the van was open, and he could not recall having left that open either. It was darker now, the sun setting behind the baronial pale stone edifice to his left. For such a filthy place inside, it was a beautiful piece of architecture outside.

_I suppose you can paint a piece of shit any color you like, it’s still shit._

Waylon rubbed his neck which was inexplicably tender on the left side, in little spots moving from a few inches below his mandible up along the entirety of his jaw. The areas felt warm and inflamed and when Waylon pulled down the visor in front of him, he could see small darkened bruise-like formations along his skin where he felt the sting.

_What the fuck? You know what, God, I take it back. I am now certain you are fucking with me in particular._

He slammed the mirror shut, confused about what had happened while he slept but wholeheartedly unsure what he could do about it. He slid out of the front seat with a sense of resignation to the fact that this was probably not the weirdest shit that would happen today, and he just hoped he would meet the man on the stairs before some worse affliction blissfully ended the curse he endured called life. He almost walked off distractedly without the gun, but as he was about to head towards the main entrance, he looked back into the passenger’s seat and grabbed the firearm which now felt powerful and weighty in his hands. Less anxious, he tucked the weapon in the back of his jeans for safe keeping with the intent to pull his baggy t-shirt and jacket over it. Some adjustment was required, largely due to the fact that the charcoal skinny jeans he was wearing were almost skin tight, but the end was achieved nonetheless and Waylon boldly strode towards the front door. As he walked up the stone steps and between the arch-joined columns, he felt his heartbeat quickening into a gallop.

He pulled open the heavy wooden doors with some difficulty, and walked across the threshold into the darkness as the specter that had burned his neck with kisses watched from above.


	4. Gluskin's Inspiration

**Chapter 4**

**3 Weeks and 5 Days Earlier**

Eddie awoke for a second time from a deep stupor which had this time been self-inflicted. He groaned as he flipped over onto his back to gaze upon his past disappointments strung up above.

_What was the point of all this heartache? Why did I have to suffer through so many failures to find my way to a true goddess? Her place by my side is so irrefutable, how could I have ever imagined any other creature as my own?_

The bodies of dozens of men swayed gently from the rafters above, hung with rope tightly bound around their ankles. Strung up like pigs, Eddie’s past flames had long since bled out entirely, now husks of their former selves.

_I am a man of principles and purpose! I have always lived my life under the comfortable assumption that everything happens for a reason. Dozens of women using me, acting shameful and wrenching away at my heart. TO WHAT END? When those women left me with blood on my hands …all that blood…and the blame for their whorish ways to bear? I knew that I needed this time to better myself. To make myself more of the patriarch I always imagined myself to be…_

Eddie traced his fingertips gently over the skin of his abdomen where the steel had ripped through not only his flesh, but also shredded his shirt. He could feel the skin growing more taught, tightening across the wound, a fibrous network of cells stitching together with the help of unseeable nanites. Nanites which generated from his bone marrow at a rate fast enough to prevent a little rough foreplay from killing him entirely, but not with enough regularity or robustness to make him a predominant host for the Walrider. The process burned like there was fire in his gut, but he welcomed the heat which promised another day, and another chance to find her.

_Me, with the body of Adonis himself, is it so much to ask for a beauty of similar caliber?_

He brushed over the fine dark hairs which trailed from his navel to the base of his now painful erection. His skin was like liquid moonlight and as he slowly stroked the length of his 9-inch cock he looked as if he was trying to rub out a bolt of lightening. He used the forefinger of the other hand to drag a line across the newly formed skin of his abdomen and brought it in front of his eyes to look at the residue left behind. A black charcoal colored resin glistened like powdered glass on his fingertips in the faint starlight seeping in through the cracked ceiling. He licked the residue sensually off if his finger, savoring the taste of the god which sustained him.

While he scanned the multitude of broken bodies above and about him, a thought occurred to him…the seed of an idea spread like wild fire throughout his mind until a peel of excited laughter bubbled past his lips.

_Wait…I...I UNDERSTAND NOW! You are not the art but the canvases upon which I will practice! I will fail a thousand times my love so that when we are reunited you will become my MAGNUM OPUS!_

His back arched with another delighted round of raucous laughter.

_Once again the universe has proven to me that everything DOES happen for a reason. These women will be what I practice upon. Over and over, until I have perfected it. I will become the man I need to become for you my love. I will learn how to best cleanse you, so you and I can be together. I will make you the woman I know you want to become. And then…._

Eddie began to thrust erratically into his hand as he imagined the ecstasy of the first time he would make love with her. The first time he would pour his seed deep inside her.

_I will open you up and then fill you up my love. I will fuck you and stretch open your newly uncovered womb. You will moan and cry and bleed around my thrusts, and at the last moment…_

He moaned and cried out to his macabre audience: “I will spill my seed DEEP INSIDE YOU,”

He sat up and came violently into the face of some dead whore he had already forgotten on the floor before him. He gasped and removed the remainders of his shirt to wipe away the semen from her face.

“I am so sorry about this, but I am committed to another you see. I cannot have her finding out about you or any of the rest of you for that matter. If we have relations again, I will not be able to finish inside you. That is something special for her, you must understand that,” he gently counseled the corpse.

The man beside him lay there unblinking with the stench of rot drifting off of his body. No response. No opinions. Only a final twisted expression of horror.

Eddie flipped him over onto his back and straddled his naked body with a second erection building quickly. He nuzzled his face deep within the man’s neck and bit his cold flesh softly, pausing to briefly atone for his imminent sins.

“Until we are reunited, I must stay virile and practiced so that I can perform to my best. Forgive me beautiful,” he whispered weakly as his he hungrily looked down upon the corpse over which his powerful body loomed.

He moaned quietly into the man’s collar bone as he parted the man’s legs and ran his fingers along his thighs to the spot between his ass and his cock to the opening Eddie had attempted to carve into his perineum. He slid his erection violently inside and began pumping into this whore who he would later use for another purpose.

“I’m coming my love!”


End file.
